Bit of trouble
by Paralelsky
Summary: "The mewling was what woke him from his restless sleep." - Dean has an unexpected hitchhiker.


**AN: **Hey guys! I know that some of you are (still?) waiting on my other stories and wondering **"**_**Why in the name of what's holy she's branching on yet another fandom?"**, _but the truth is that I just couldn't stay away. I'm in love with Dean, and Sam...and DeanandSam...so I think you get the picture. So enjoy?

**Spoilers: **not really, Season 6 AU before the brothers reunite.

**Warning: fluff, f-word, a bit of angst, dopey author who should really know better and stay away from her computer when she's on Ibuprofen...UNBETAED...english not my first language. I think that says it all.**

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><p>xxxXxXxXxxx<p>

The mewling was what woke him from his restless sleep. He'd been on the road for quite some time now, stopping only for hunts, food, gas and to hustle money from players too drunk to care, in places so dingy and rundown he wasn't sure that it was actually beer in the bottles he chunk down.

He'd left Lisa's almost a month now, too confined in the apple pie life he at one point would have sworn it was what he'd always desired, but only after it became reality he'd known his dream had one major flaw. A Sam shaped hole in his life that took away any enjoyment he may get from the Braeden family.

_Fuck…_he was too tired if his thoughts went down that special rabbit hole.

And yet, the mewling continued, fainter that it was five hours ago went he first thought he heard it. He had stopped the car then as well and searched everywhere, shy of actually dismantling the seats, but he had found nothing, so he chalked it to being tired and cranky and maybe a little confused from that blow to the head the ghost was so fond of delivering.

But he was better now, a bit of sleep in the front seat of the car doing wonders and all that shit, yet the mewling persisted.

_Well, time to hunt that little bugger down and…Do what? _He'd never been cruel to animals, especially those normal ones that really didn't deserve his wrath, so he knew that if he found the little cat he would be stomped on what to do next.

But first thing, first. So with a groan and a series of pops when he stretched his spine from the Dean-shaped-place in the front seat, he once again searched every millimeter of his car. An hour later, under the rosy light of sunrise, a tired and frustrated Dean finally fished a weakly squirming bundle of fur from inside his backseat.

"How on Earth did you get in there?" he asked the weakening kitten that in his large hand looked like the most pitiable creature on earth. Baby blue eyes, barely cracked, peered miserably at him and the grey soft fur stood in ends and tuffs making it look like it had a really bad hair day. Or maybe a really bad week.

And perhaps it did, if it chose to hide in a hunter's car, all things considered.

"Alright scraps." Dean said gruffly when it was obvious that this was the only kitten his car had, which was something that brought a fleeting ghost of a smile to his lips while thinking how much fun and teasing would Sam have if he'd been there to…._Stop it right there! _He slammed the mental door on that particular thought and decided instead to concentrate on _right there _and_ right then. _

"You hungry little buddy?" he asked while unconsciously cradling the weak kitten that didn't even struggle anymore and Dean thought that maybe it was too late and he should have searched for it this thoroughly earlier.

"Here." His tone was unconsciously gentler, as if to not scare it, while he poured a bit of water in the bottle cap and tried to make it drink. It took two tries and one dip of his finger in the water to smear a bit of liquid on the muzzle for the kitten to start lapping at it.

"There, there." Dean took the bottle cap and filled it with water once more, then quickly placed before the cat that had started to mewl in indignation, once again. "Demanding little bitch, aren't you?" he asked almost fondly, before shaking his head at the wrong terminology. The insult had slipped his lips so easily, like it was just waiting to get out, and Dean tried his best to not think of those times when that word was one of his most cherished.

"Come now buddy." He scooped the kitten in the first t-shirt he grabbed out of his duffle and after a few more moments trying to make it settle on the passenger seat, but giving up when the only place that kept it silent and content was his lap, Dean started the Impala and drove to the nearest town. Hopefully there, he would find someone to pass on the little bit of trouble.

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Hours later, while he was browsing the small "I love my pet" store with a shop assistant prattling his ear off with cat breeds, cat food, cat shots, cat toys and pretty much cat everything, Dean realized that a) he was in more trouble that he'd previously thought, and b) he had to name the little bugger that was purring contently in his favorite leather jacket.

End.

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><p><strong>AN: So any of you got an idea what kind of breed the cat is and how to name him? Yes, it's boy. ^_~<strong>


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